The Sound of Silence is Rocking Out
by Allybally
Summary: 15lovefic Of all her childhood memories, the ones that stand out clearest in her mind are the ones with messy hair.


_Dedicated to Nova-Janna, because she was nice enough to read over it for me, and she came up with the great title! Thanks!_

_Wind in my hair  
__Shifting and drifting  
__Mechanical music  
__Adrenaline surge  
__-'Red Barrcetta', Rush_

Of all her childhood memories, the ones that stand out clearest in her mind are the ones with messy hair.

She'd step out of the car, check her reflection in the window, see a massive pile of tousled red strands atop her head, and not care. Neither did her dad, which was the important part. They'd be driving down the freeway with the windows down and rock music blasting and she'd realize that her mom would never let her do this. That was another thing- the music. Her dad never told her to change the station, never asked why she listened to this kind of stuff, never told her to turn it down.

They were always quiet, too. A comfortable silence, the kind that can only linger between a father and a daughter. It was different with her mother. Car rides with her mother were full of words. It was as if she worried that, should the silence last too long, her daughter would love her that much less. Her father seemed to understand that their special silence made her love him that much more.

Almost every Sunday she would travel across town with her father to visit her grandmother- it was a Myers family tradition, apparently. Every week they'd meet a few uncles and her aunt and have coffee with grandma. And even though when their ritual first started, when she was very young, the visits sometimes bored her, she joined him every time without fail. Because he had asked her, not her mother, not Candice, and for forty-five minutes there and forty-five minutes back, she got to turn the music up as loud and she wanted, on whatever station she wanted. Then she'd roll the window down and watch her hair fly about in the rearview mirror.

As she got older, she started to find the visits more enjoyable. She wasn't sure if her father's family had somehow changed overtime, or if she was just old enough to really participate now, but she realized that they were funny and interesting, even grandma. Especially grandma. She found herself looking forward to the visits; to the iced tea grandma bought because, even though she'd never drink the stuff, she knew her granddaughter loved it. She looked forward to the summer visits especially, because that likely meant the afternoon would be spent in grandma's garden, with her uncles and father pruning the trees while she, her grandma, and her aunt tended to the flowers. She remembered the day her grandma had picked up cherry sweet buns from the bakery, knowing they'd all be coming. And when she'd remembered that most of her children preferred strawberry, she drove all the way back to the bakery despite their protests. Cody could remember thinking that most of her father's good qualities probably came from grandma.

But the best part of the visits were still when they'd be on their way home, _Highway to Hell_ blasting from their speakers and wind blowing through the car so fast they wouldn't have been able to have a conversation even if they'd needed to. And when they'd walk in the house, her mother would simply roll her eyes at her daughter's disheveled appearance, but Cody would refuse to fix her hair because she kind of liked it that way.

Her mother. That was a different story. It wasn't like everyone thought, though. Somehow, saying her parents were divorced always translated into her mother being a drunk, or on drugs, or a whore, or just no good. The truth was, they simply didn't get along. She can't remember a time when they ever really did. It wasn't as though they fought often- rarely ever, in fact. But her mother was logical and down to earth, and believed that school was most important, and then appearance. There was no place for rock music and rolled down windows in her world. And Cody was a free spirit who wasn't worried about school so long as she passed and honestly didn't care about things like hair or makeup. She loved art, and pictures, and reading. Not those stupid little kid books her school always assigned, but whatever she wanted. And although the two had never really been friends and seldom understood the other's way of thinking, her mother had never tried to change her. And for that, she loved her.

She couldn't ever really remember her parents being in love. She supposed, in her later years, that Candice probably could, seeing as she had known them longer, but she had never thought to ask. They never fought very loudly, and never in public, but there was always this slight cold tension between them. As if they were always just a little bit annoyed with each other. So when she was nine and they announced that they were getting divorced, she didn't ask silly questions. She wasn't happy about it, of course; no nine-year old wants their family torn apart. But an older, more knowing, mature part of her that she wasn't even aware of at the time understood. They promised her it wasn't her fault, nor was it Candice's, and that they would both continue to love their daughters just as much. Cody's dad leaving, however, was never part of the deal. They never told her she'd have to say goodbye to him. That was the part that got to her, she remembers, the part that confused her. She had been so sure he had loved her as much as she loved him. And he did, he assured her, but he had to leave. Had to start a new life. And she couldn't come. So by the time she was ten, her father was gone. It was just her, her mother, and Candice, and no loud music or windswept hairdos.

She remembers her preteen years as being full of forced 'bonding' experiences with her mother. She'd take her shopping, or to movies, or wherever Cody wanted to go. And there was always either awkward conversations or awkward silences. And when it was over Cody would go to her room to write and her mother would go to her room to fix her hair. She was never allowed to turn the music up. She was never allowed to roll the window down. By the time she was fourteen, her mother had (thankfully) given up on these excursions. She knew that her daughter preferred spending time with her father to spending time with her. And, while she may not have _liked_ it, she had to understand it because it was obvious that she preferred spending time with Candice. She _had_ Candice, though. Cody didn't have her father. There were times when Cody felt she didn't have anyone.

He rarely visited. Cody can count on one hand the number of times he had come to see her in five years. It wasn't even as if they were that far- they were still in the same _province_. She would have even settled for phone calls, but those were few and far between as well. She remembers once asking her older sister why Dad never came to see them. Candice had told her it was because he was a psychiatrist at a tennis academy. Cody didn't understand what that had to do with anything. Her sister explained that all athletes were crazies, especially tennis players. She still kind of believes that. She accepted it as a reasonable excuse, because it came from Candice and this was before all the sibling rivalry and resentment that would develop later on, and she was simply her older sister who knew everything. But it didn't make her feel any better. She didn't want excuses. She wanted her father.

So when her mother announced that her father was coming to see them, Cody was thrilled. When she learned her father was coming to take her away, she was horrified. _This_ was not what she had wanted! She wanted her father to come home! She could have lived with moving to a new house, but a new town? Her father was the one who left, why should she have to be punished? She had refused. Insisted she wasn't going. She loved her father, but he had abandoned her and she was not going to start a new life just for him. But she'd had no choice. He'd won custody, so she had to live wherever he wanted. And he chose a stupid tennis academy across the province.

She can still remember the day she left vividly. She had imagined her reunion with her father as something beautiful. They would hug and he would tell her that she was his little girl and he'd never leave her again. She had never expected to be that angry at him. She remembers saying goodbye to her mother and sister, remembers that, despite their differences, she truly loved them at that moment as she never had before. And she would've given anything for them to tell her she was allowed to stay. But they packed up her things, had a cup of coffee (more for the girls' sake than their parents'), and then set off on their drive.

An hour into the car ride, Cody can remember wanting to scream. They'd said barely two words to each other the entire time. Why wouldn't he talk? Five years, and he had nothing to say? Her life since she was ten had been nothing but awkward silences- she didn't need anymore. She was ready to yell at him, to tell him she hated him for leaving, and she hated him even more for coming back, but she hated him the most for not talking to her. And then she realized it wasn't awkward. It wasn't begging for words, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the sound of a father and daughter enjoying each other's company, of being together, and of knowing they would be together for a long time. It was a feeling she had almost forgotten. She reached forward and played with the radio for a few seconds until she found a station she liked, and turned it up as high as it would go.

Then she rolled down the window and surrendered her hair to the breeze.

_-gasp- My first story without a pairing! Crazy, eh? Let me know what you think with that pretty little button to the left :)_


End file.
